Visions
by MaL
Summary: Part 9 Everyone easily takes things for granted, realizing its worth only after its absence. When Aoshi ponders over a loss...and Misao loses her memories... [AM]
1. Ponderings

Part 1-Visions

Part 1-Visions

Pondering

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A maiden attempt at fanfic writing.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

A creation spurred by a moment of frustrations from insomnia. Enjoy. Comments are most welcomed.

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My mind is in a hazy blur. No, it's not just my mind… I find myself wandering in a foreign land,

stumbling about every now and then as I worked my way out of this cloudy maze.

_Am I lost? Where am I?_

I know I am looking for something but I can't really point out what. Suddenly, I realized that 

there was no one else around but me. Just me.

_Am I dead? How come?_

_Solitude. Is this what I've always been seeking for? Through hours and hours of _

_meditation? Prayed for everyday? Is this really it?_

All I could see were hazes and hazes of clouds. They are all real, in the sense that they do 

indeed exist, but nothing that I can grab and hold on to. Nothing concrete. 

_Is it possible that I am but a cloud too? _

No, I stretched out my hands before me and they are hands, not clouds.

So, this is loneliness. This indeed feels… sad. Is this what I had wished for? To be cut off 

from the rest of the world and be encompassed in a world that evolves around me, me, 

solely me, and nothing else?

Then, visions of a face appeared before me. Oceanic eyes as deep as the deepest sea, smiling 

sweetly at me.

_Can eyes smile? _

I know hers do. So innocent, so sincere, so joyful, they overwhelm me so and… I am so 

unworthy of it all. 

And as if she heard me, her bright shiny eyes that were once filled with hope, filled with so much 

love, turned sad and anguished. She looked hurt, devastated, her eyes now watery with tears 

that threatened to fall against her wishes. Her rose bud lips were no longer curving up a smile. 

As she shut her eyes tight, the welling tears fell, leaving a trail down both sides of her cheeks.

Will I ever get to hear the sounds of jubilant laughter again? Hear her honey voice and 

see her warm caring smile? And not be able to take in her sweet scent, her bright loving 

eyes and that stubborn nature of hers that amuses me so?_'Cosif this is peace, then I _

_don't want it. No, I don't want it._


	2. Visions of a dream

Part 2-Visions of a Dream

_ _

_Standard disclaimers apply._

_ _

_Part 2-Visions of a Dream_

_ _

_A Revised version of Part 2_

_--------------------------------_

I woke up dreaming of him again. We were running happily in an open field. 

Well, … actually it was just me. 

He followed me quietly behind as I chased away the butterflies.

And behind my back he smiled. I didn't see it, but I knew he smiled. Yes, I'm sure he smiled. 

Only Kami-sama knows how I yearned to see that smile, just once, even. For a moment his smile COULD have been mine. If only… But I know that as soon as I turn around, it will disappear. It's something he keeps to himself…. I wonder how I knew all this.

He's been plaguing my dreams every night, now. Fourteen weeks already. Endlessly. He keeps me restless in the daytime too, and I find myself thinking of him, the man in my dreams, constantly.

_Who is he? How dare he intrude and dwell in my thoughts so frequently! _

_ _

"Natsumi-chan? Daijoubu ka? Perhaps you should rest awhile," an elderly voice spoke. "No, don't worry about the class, I can take care of that," she added, chuckling heartily.

"But Haru-san, it's only an hour away before class dismissal. And you know how the kids always, … behave… when it's almost time," Misao reasoned.

"I'm old but that doesn't mean I can't handle them, Natsumi-chan. I've been here all my life. Who do you think had been teaching here before you? Now, go along, get some rest," Haru-san spoke, gently squeezing Misao's slim hand reassuringly before letting go.

"Hai, arigatou, Haru-san," Misao politely bowed before making her way to her room, knowing that arguing with her was pointless.

_Is this really her? The very same kinouchi I'd found, wandering in the woods on the third day of summer, almost four months ago? …The broken spirited girl all caked in mud? All messy in thoughts? So miserable, so cold?… But she is one good girl; that I can tell. So generous with her heart and so easy to love…And she deserves to be out of gloom… Perhaps the release from her past was a good thing. She'll be happier with me, Haru thought as she watched Misao's retreating back exiting the hall._

***

Back in her room, she sat herself by the window overlooking the garden. Lilies. A tiny bushel of white lilies grew beside the koi pond. Somehow she found the sight familiar, comforting her.

---

_"Here's a lily for you, my angel, Misao." _

_"Wai!!! It's white! Kireii!!! Ano, … Hannya-kun, why is the lily white, ne?" a young girl, about five, asked._

_"Because, Misao, it's pure and beautiful and sweet, just like you!"_

_"Is that why you always get lilies for me, Hannya-kun, ne, ne? Or is it because you just like lilies LOTS but you're plain SCARED of the others finding out? Don't worry, I won't tell," the little tot winked playfully at the masked man, promising conspiracy. _

His strong muscular arms were inked with black and red tattoo stripes. His mask, ghoulish. To any ordinary person, he indeed looked intimidating, scary even, but to this particular little girl, he was a friend, her good friend, and he was very gentle with her too. 

Brows creased showing her engaged in active thinking. _"I know! I'll swear! Ahem…I," she audaciously decided to lift her right hand and cheekily continued, __"Makimachi Misao, PROMISE to swear NEVER to tell Hannya-kun's secret to my friends, Hyottoko-kun, Beshimi-kun, Shikijo-kun…"_

_ _

_"Alright, alright, I'll tell you," he shrugged, sighing defeatedly as he finally gave in, __"Just remember to keep this a secret, okay?"The excited blue-eyed girl vigorously bobbed her head up and down causing her long raven braid to ridiculously crest and fall._

_"I love lilies 'cos they kinda smell good and they are as white as the pure snow...," he softly began,__ "Misao… do you remember how it's like when it snows?" he asked the little girl thoughtfully._

_"Uh huh... kirei na!" she replied enthusiastically, failing to recognize his bitterness._

"_Sometimes when I'm tired of this life, I close my eyes and they ...they remind me of you... they remind me of a lot of things, of beauty, innocence and peace..." his voice reached barely a whisper._

She knew that tone. You only use it when you're sad. She uses it a lot herself. But Hannya-kun uses it only when he's really upset.

_"Etto... Hannya-kun, what's eee.. ee nooo s… that ... whatever you called it?" she finally broke the mounting silence. Trust the little one to channel relief._

__

_"Aa... innocence? Let's just say, its something I can see in you but sadly, it's something I no longer have or can ever possess again..."_

__

_"Is it good or is it bad?" his curious companion frowned upon his answer, thinking of the time she had hit Jiya on his head. _

He chuckled softly, shaking his head mildly, _"It's a good thing, Misao."_

At this, the little one beamed. _"Ne, Hannya-kun, … I think I like lilies too! Uh huh! Daisuki yo!! Because they're white and smell good and they remind me of you! Ne?" The big man could only return her a puzzled look. _

She sighed audibly before explaining_, "They're white just like your mask, ne, and also because you like them too! BUT…" she offered, __" you don't smell as nice, though!" she wrinkled her nose in mock disgust and with that, she sprinted off towards a tall approaching figure-_

_"Oi! Misao-chan where are you going?"_

_"To tell Aoshi-sama of course!" she replied giggling__, "I didn't swear not to tell him!" As she turned her head to look back, she mischievously poked her tongue out at him, leaving him standing by himself, dumbfounded._

---

"Hannya," Misao uttered, her heart leaping as she found a glimmer of recognition in that name. In a rush, surreptitiously, old memories flooded back in fleeting flashes.

"Hyottoko," her mind envisioned an extremely large-bellied fire breather who was always the first to be caught in a hide-and-seek game for he reeked strongly of alcohol.

"Beshimi," she remembered being scolded by the scrawny man when being caught playing with some of his colorful but deadly concoctions before.

"Shikijo," her eyes shut tight as she remembered the green, scarred-filled yet gentle face whose smile never wavered and whose strong shoulders she had mounted on, on the numerous adventures they shared together back then.

"How could I forget them? … But I remember now," she whispered softly to herself. Without realizing, tears trickled down her porcelain cheeks slowly, gathering at her pointed chin before falling in big blobs on her purple kimono.

Stealthily, a figure in the shadows that had been observing her quietly left, unnoticed.

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[Sorry about the weak start, guys. …I know, I kinda made Aoshi sound a 'lil demented here… but then again, who knows what ever goes on in that icicle pop head of his, eh? Well, more to come soon… I'll promise to write better. So let me know what u guys think, k? Also, Thanks for taking the time to read. ^_^ ]


	3. When Friends Care

Standard disclaimers apply

Standard disclaimers apply.

Part 3- When Friends Care... 

"Chikuso! Where is that foul-mouthed chicken-head?!?"Tsunan muttered angrily under his breath. He had been away all week gathering info and materials for an upcoming article and when he returned, much to his dismay, his shared residence was in an utter mess.

Though hard to believe, it was not typical of Sano to leave visible mess lying around just like that. Unless he was in a rush. Sure, he doesn't even help lift a finger when it comes to the dojo. He wouldn't be caught dead doing chores like Ken-san by the little brat or Kaoru.He wouldn't have earned the title of free-lodger that way. Both Tsunan and Sano were too young to join most of the major battles of the Sekihoutai and they did most of the minding and keeping in camp. 

-_Hell, he can even nurse wounds and tend to the sick well. That bird-brain wouldn't have survived this long if he couldn't- Tsunan chuckled to himself, remembering the first time he was shot and how dedicatedly efficient Sano was at nursing him back to full health. It's a caring side of Sano that does not surface too frequently._

By the looks of things, Sano had rushed out immediately after waking up. Empty sake bottles from the previous night were carelessly littered all over the floor. Tsunan wondered where all the money to buy them came from. 

It's been a while since Sano last gambled. His abstinence from gambling had surprised everyone, but not without winning support. Tsunan knew exactly where he was and decided to head there himself. Hopefully, it would help shed some light, to the current mood of things.

***

"Oi, Kenshin! Just leave it, okay! Why don't you ask Jo-chan out for a walk instead? Bring her to town or something?" Sano offered, " Never …get a pregnant woman upset, -Otousan-," he teasingly added, winking mischievously as he did so. He's been coming over the dojo more often than regularly, helping Kenshin out with little chores. But of course, they were really little, he made sure they were, and only Kenshin was aware of his help.

"Arigato gozaru yo, Sano. You've done a lot already. Demo, shessa think you should go rest now, degozaru. Perhaps you can sit down and drink some tea on the porch while shessa cook something nice for all of us today, ne?" Kenshin politely replied.

"It's okay, Kenshin, I don't mind cooking for you at all. Jo-chan really shouldn't be alone and worrying hysterically, you know. That'll make her sick, and that's not good for your kid," Sano argued.

"But you've been cooking for us everyday!" Kenshin wailed. "That is more than enough and shessa think you should have some form of break too!"

"So far, there hasn't been a single complain of food poisoning, now, is there? And no one knows I've been cooking here other than you and me, of course… plus I'm pretty sure I'm not as bad as Jo-chan and besides, Yahiko's too busy helping out at the Akabeko so he won't be back so early…," Sanosuke smirked triumphantly. 

"Why don't you just do something fun with her and ease her mind for a change? Watch a puppet show, …or bring her to the, no, not the temple, that's gonna get her even more depressed… Che! Don't you understand women at all? …Your own woman?" Sano's face faulted at his friend's denseness.

"Sano's cooking? Sugoii! What are you cooking, my friend? Mind if I help?" a smiling face suddenly appeared behind the window enigmatically. It was Tsunan. It definitely has been a long time since he had last eaten anything that was relatively cooked by Sano.

A startled Kenshin greeted, "Tsu…Tsunan-san! What a great pleasure to see you! When did you get back, de gozaru yo?"

"Just," he answered, looking a little distracted, Kenshin noted but decided to dismiss that as travel fatigue. "I may have some news, but I'm not too sure though… do you mind if I hang around for dinner, Ken-san?" Tsunan asked politely. All the traveling had burned a huge hole in his pocket. That and supporting Sano's drinking, he had discovered…

"What are you doing here? And what news do you have that will possibly interest us, huh?" Sano fired, sounding annoyed.

"No, no, we don't mind at all. Please, Tsunan-san, you are always welcomed here, de gozaru yo," Kenshin answered, ignoring Sano.

"Arigato, that's very gracious of you, Ken-san," he briefly glanced at Sano and then pointedly back at Kenshin, " I was in Nagoya the other day, checking out the architecture of aged temples, when I happen to overhear some of the locals conversing …"

"So typical of you to pry," Sano muttered.

Ignoring Sano's snide remark, he went on, "they were so full of praise for a female teacher in their town. They spoke admiringly of how very pretty she was; breathtaking, they said, knowledgeable yet humble, outgoingly friendly and cheerful too…. And… on top of being good with the kids, she is highly skilled and well versed in the art of fighting… sounds perfect doesn't she?"

"Uh… Etto, …the baby's still not here yet, Tsunan-san, and … shessa still have to discuss with shessa's wife… about our child's future … of course, education included. … Ano… isn't it a little too soon, ne? … hehe ..." Kenshin tried reminding him, sweat dropping profusely.

Tsunan felt insulted. Not only was he being interrupted in his speech, he was also accused of being dense as well. And of all the persons in the world, by Kenshin, no less. 

He rolled his eyes in disbelief and continued, "No, I'm not suggesting you should enroll your child, who is by the way, yet to be born, there… but doesn't it sound kind of strange that this woman was from out of town and she can utilize throwing knives very, very well?"

"Masaka!!" Sano hissed, cutting his left thumb as he missed the carrot, "Kuso!"

"So, I went to check it out…" Tsunan revealed.

"Well?" Sano raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Well what?" Tsunan asked, pretending not to know what his friend meant. 

"Well, what did 'cha find out, baka!" Sano shot back fiercely at Tsunan while sorely sucking his bleeding thumb.

"Well, … she does resemble a lot like… our missing Okashira friend, I guess. … I'm not too sure, though, …'cos her hair was all down when I saw her. Has she grow up! She's indeed a pretty 'lil thing now, I'd say!"

"What?!? Didn't 'cha even talk to her? Ask her?" Sano questioned again. Shocked that Tsunan did not even have the decency to do as said when he was so accustomed to such practice in his work.

"I wanted to… but she was all upset and crying at that time, I don't know …Perhaps ... perhaps she just wants some time to be alone ... to be away from everyone she knew and knows her. Maybe that's why she decided not come here at all," Tsunan tried to reason, though he could not even convince himself.

"Darn, that Shinomori! What _did he do or tell her this time?!?" Sano cursed, together with a string of unprintable profanities._

"No, ... shessa don't think so," Kenshin offered after giving Tsunan's suggestion a careful thought. "No, ...that's not the Misao-dono _we know. ...She promised Kaoru that she'll be here to help. ...Misao-dono __always keeps to her word."_

Kenshin shook his head slowly, placid rurouni eyes lapsing into a look of worry as he shared his conclusion, "Furthermore, she's not the irresponsible kind who runs out without informing us or any of the Oniwabanshu. ...And she _was supposed to be here four months ago. She would have had at least sent word not to look for her if she's very upset, so as not to have anyone worry about her. ...Shessa sense something __very wrong here." _

"And so do I!" The three immediately turned their heads to the door, ashamed that they were so wrapped up in their conversation that they had failed to notice the intruder.

"Anata…" Kenshin gasped.

[A short teaser this time. But i won't be writing much on them in this series. Comments would be lovely and most definitely welcomed. Actions will make a brief debut in the next chapter! Till then. Ja.]


	4. Promises When the past catches up

Standard Disclaimers apply

Standard Disclaimers apply.

Greatest grattitude to all who commented.

Part 4 - Promises - When the Past Catches up

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"...Shessa sense something very wrong here." 

"And so do I!" The three immediately turned their heads to the door, ashamed that they were so wrapped up in their conversation that they had failed to notice the intruder.

"Anata…" Kenshin gasped.

"And it's fourteen weeks and five days since she _was supposed to have arrived here!" Kaoru thundered, angry that she had been left out in the information sharing session, _

"And Sano! What the hell are you doing?!?"

"Er…cooking?" Kaoru's face faulted.

"Yeah, cooking! You should try his vegetable and fish stew! Oishii des!!! Oooh! And it's highly nutritious too! Perfect for you and your…" before he could complete, Sano unceremoniously elbowed Tsunan hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his breath.

"Sa… Sano? You…you cook??? Can cook???" pointing accusingly at him, Kaoru asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Well, occasionally," Sano replied nonchalantly, hiding the fact that he was embarrassed being caught, "You got a problem with that, Jo-chan?"

"…Don't believe… chicken cook … better… than…ME!" Kaoru was blinking hard, her face paled a shade of white before seething scarlet red.

"Maa, maa. Now, koibito, let's not get carried away, ne? Shessa think we should be very grateful that Sano, here, has been preparing us many delicious meals," Kenshin interrupted, trying to calm down his menacing wife.

"But don't tell anyone about this, okay? The last thing I want is a job offer in the Akabeko. That'll mean I have to work my debts off and no more free lunch!" Sano answered truthfully, not in the least bit sounding arrogant.

Convinced that Sano wasn't scorning her, Kaoru decided to address the most pressing matter at hand. "Where is she? Is she well?" as calm as she appeared to be, she was actually very anxious inside.

"Aah. She seems to be well. She's currently teaching at a preschool in Nagoya. It's not very big, a little like this place but in a more secluded prefecture," Tsunan patiently explained. "If you want, I can take you there."

She looked pleadingly at Kenshin. "Kenshin? … Please? O…ne…ga…i"

She was using -that- miserable look on him again. It was something he can't possibly say no to, despite the gnawing knowledge that traveling is definitely not a good option at all for swollen-bellied ladies.

"All right, we'll go visit her, we'll set out tomorrow evening, if that's fine with Tsunan-san, of course," Kenshin decided reluctantly. These days, Kaoru would not let him go anywhere far without bringing her along. And being in her current state, she has been more possessive than ever, as Kenshin had found out.

Tsunan sighed inwardly. He was still exhausted from his journey, having returned only a while ago and not yet indulged his tired self a proper rest. "Yes, that's perfectly fine with me," he lied, not wanting to upset the distraught woman any further. It was just not healthy for the child.

****

"No, no. Not like that, like this. See?" she corrected a student's stroke. "Now, try that again," she smiled, encouragingly at the sandy-haired boy.

"Uh!" he nodded enthusiastically. 

Today, she was teaching them how to write the word 'Yakusoku', meaning promise. It was ironic though, that if she had ever made any promise to anyone or herself in the past, she is no longer fit to fulfill them now. She has been remembering a lot these past few days but those short bouts of memory floods were inconsistent, random. Her past was something unfathomable still, a massive confusion of shrouded blur.

She turned her attention to the resolved student. Watching the little toddler, Misao couldn't help grinning. Somehow, this scene was almost like a re-enactment of her past, only that she remembered the roles were reversed. Back then, she was the student and it was _him, who ever he was, who had taught her. _

She remembered obsessing about the way his inky bangs draped across his forehead, concealing his ice, cold adamantine eyes. And his handsome face masked all emotions lying within him from betraying. And quiet, he was quiet. He was never one to speak unnecessarily, unless to command or to teach. And he was tall, way above her, unreachable. Unreachable in all sense.

The third incense of the day was burning at half mast. It is nap time for the students now. Gently, she coaxed her already wearied students to hang their writings on the lines located at the sides of the room to dry. Haru-san entered the hall with a tray of cupfuls of spring water and distributed them accordingly to the children. They dutifully passed the cups back to the front after greedily emptying them of their contents and then, routinely rested their heads on the miniature tables in front of them. It did not take long before all of them were sound asleep.

Misao decided to take a leisurely stroll in the garden. The sun was bright, the sky, crystal blue but the air was chilly outside, signs that autumn was forcing its way into the season.And soon after that, it will be winter.

-_Everything changes. Even seasons. But not me. Four months now, and I'm still a ghost of my past. Remembering disjointed memories and feeling surges of sudden exultation and only to be fooled later by gloomy dejection that follows - Misao thought bitterly._

She straightened her back stiffly, as she sensed herself being watched. She could feel the presence of strong fighting ki nearby. Only she couldn't figure how many. She swiftly turned around to find Haru-san was about to bring her tea. 

She motioned to the elderly lady to move back. "Haru-san! Stay inside with the children! And do not come out unless I tell you to! Hayaku!!" Misao cautioned her. Haru-san nodded in agreement, understanding that the harshness in her voice was actually a revelation of her protective nature towards her wards.

Misao quickly scanned the school compound. She needed to locate herself at an advantageous ground. There was only one of her and she couldn't risk relying on just her speed at kunai throwing. If she gets injured, what would happen then? Who is going to protect them? 

She reached into the sleeves of her kimono and drew out her newly polished knives. She stood poised on the branch of a sturdy tree, camouflaged, eyes narrowing defiantly in anticipation.

"Misao! I bet you'd be happy to see who's here!" a deep male voice boomed. Her body tensed at the call of that name. She remembered hearing that name countless of times in her dreams but she doesn't recall to whom it belonged to. 

_They're here to kill! That must be it! Otherwise I wouldn't sense fighting ki this strong! I must get them before they get me! - she thought panicky, her heart pounding audibly in her ears._

They are getting near.

She timed her move and hurled four kunais by the unguarded gate. Her shots were dead accurate, missing the head of the first figure only because a still sheathed sword had intercepted their way.

She gasped, unable to move a muscle. The speed in which the sword was raised was astounding. God-like. Almost. Faced with a master swordsman, she knew now, that she stood no chance in winning. A second figure rushed in, covering the woman, whom Misao had missed, protectively. At the same time, he had immobilized her of movements with his potently fierce ki. Obviously, he was the sword wielder.

An X shaped scar ran down his left cheek, his hair, the color of burning sun, and his eyes were golden hued. He was dangerous. He was angry.

Two other trailing persons followed in but Misao's attention was focused solely on him still. Her eyes belligerently narrowed further as recognition dawned in.

"Battosai!" she snarled, her voice laden thick with venom.

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TBC

[Well, I tried... honestly... Comments would be lovely. Thanks. Ja.]


	5. Recollections

A product of insomnia

A product of insomnia.

Standard Disclaimers apply.

Part 5 - Recollections 

--------------------------

Those eyes. They are not hers. But he remembered seeing them before in a fight with a vengeful man. They speak of loyalty, betrayal, hurt. Intense hatred resided deep within the depths of midnight blue orbs, radiating. They shone with ruthless determination, outshining even the riot of confusion held within. They were the eyes of a desperate man long forgotten. They were the eyes of the former… Aoshi Shinomori.

For a moment, she resembled him. Masking doubt and the feeling of haplessness futilely with blind hate, as though lashing it out on someone, anyone, would help alleviate the pain.

Sano charged towards the tree trusting his instincts to guide him. In a swift motion, he dug his right foot powerfully into the earth, launching himself in mid-air. As he grabbed at the offensive assailant, he deftly wound his left arm around her neck, his right fist readying to deliver a frenzied punch when he suddenly froze. 

_Long, bluish black hair that reached past the waist. Eyes, the darkest blue but as cold as a frozen sea. And did it not just rained kunai? Misao???_

He did not follow through with the punch but he held the writhing form captive in his strong arms. She was shaking vigorously still when they landed, although her irrational anger was now somewhat subdued. What will they do to her? She was petrified. 

Surreptitiously, she felt his hold on her relaxed. He turned her shoulders squarely to face him and shook her violently. "What were you thinking?!! You could have easily killed her!" Sano yelled angrily. 

No answer. The woman whom she had tried to kill earlier, was now standing before her. She held up her right hand and brought it down forcefully on Misao's face. The sound of the clean slap echoed sharply in the air. Absent mindedly, Misao touched her left cheek, feeling. She was sure it was smarting red from the blow. "Misao! Stop this stupid game, right now!!" Kaoru bellowed.

-_Game? What game? - _

Misao's thoughts ran, choosing to abandon her at this crucial moment and opting instead to run a trip down memory lane.

-_"Aoshi-sama, let's play a game, ne?" the chibi tot invited-_

_-"Game? What game, Misao?" a dark haired youth quizzed, as he looked up from his desk-_

_-"Uhmm… you know, first, you SLOWLY count to ten while I go hide somewhere. …After that, you'll come find me, okay?" she explained-_

_-"Aah. Wakata," he replied-_

_-"Ano, … Aoshi-sama, you'll come find me, right? No matter where I hide?" she wanted to reassure herself-_

_-"I will, Misao. I'll always find you. No matter where you are, I'll find you." He patted her head, a slight smile tugging ever so lightly at the corners of his mouth-_

_-"So ka… yatta!" she responded gleefully-_

Yes, find me. I'm sacred of being alone. Find me please. 

FLASH

_-"What if you can't find him? What if he's not here?" a friendly red-haired ruroni asked-_

_-"Then I'll look in another place. I will find him. Even if I have to search the entire world, Himura, even if I have to cross boundaries of time, I will find him."-_

If you won't find me, then I'll find you

FLASH

-"_To shape the future of Japan, I killed. I killed ruthlessly and dishonorably. Now, I know how wrong I was. Bloodshed only leads to more bloodshed. It puts us into the throes of agonizing misery, revolutionizing lives only by instilling fear and hate through oppression. Changes should be wise, made for the better, peaceful and work in favor of the people. … I am not the person I was anymore. I stopped killing a long time ago, Misao. Everyday, I pray for those whose lives were taken by my hands. I pray for forgiveness, salvation for their souls as well as mine, and for hope and peace for the future. I made a vow and it give me a reason to live on. …It is true that a sword is a weapon that can kill but it can also be used to protect the weak and the ones you love." Those eyes, they were placidly violet, with flecks of gold that shone with resolve. She remembered seeing them just shortly ago. But they were calmer here. -_

The ones you love… who do you love? 

FLASH

_-"Tell me, please. …If you know what happened to my friends, …then please tell me."-_

_ _

_-"They were very brave… Aoshi was badly injured. They were protecting him…" watery blue eyes of an ebony haired girl turned to face her, uncertain of how to go on. -_

_-"They are dead, aren't they?"-_

My friends. …Dead… 

FLASH

-In a hut. An injured man laid sprawled on the floor, blood soaked. _He was there. His back was turned to her. He told her something but she could only recall her heart constricting painfully. -_

I found you… but you didn't want to be found. 

FLASH

-On a wintry night. The night they left her. She had hidden herself inside of the closet, remembering that he once told her he would find her wherever she hides. But he did not. They never returned-

But you promised …

FLASH

-A girl. The one she had tried to kill earlier. Waiting expectantly by a pile of fresh rubble. She was injured. Her arm was wrapped in bandage. It was beginning to rain. But she waited still. Hopeful. -

I waited too. I waited long… but still… Nothing. 

Misao did not know what to do so she sensibly did the only thing her heart wanted to. She wept. Unashamedly, openly, she wept. Her head was swirling insanely and her whole body shook uncontrollably from the incessant mental assault. She felt terribly weak. Broken. Depressed. Frustrated. Then darkness swept her, which she readily welcomed.

--------------------------

"I see. So you are friends of Natsu, er, Misao-chan. …Are you going to take her back with you? Back to the ninja hell she once left?" the elderly woman finally broke her silence after grappling with the explanation the short red-hair man had offered. 

"You have no idea how miserable she was when I first found her. …Sending her back would be like deceivingly pushing her down a tall rocky cliff. That poor child! No! I will not allow that!" Haru continued despairingly.

"But we are her friends! We don't _want to hurt her! This is not the genki Misao we all know! The old Misao is cheerful, kind, determined and honest. She faces her problems with hardheaded courage and we, her friends, help see her through. Just like her seeing us through! She isn't one who smiles on the outside and cries in the inside, which is all __your Natsumi-chan does! …Please, Haru-san, think about __her family, the people she loves and those who love her, whom she'd left behind! Think of how __they feel…Please!" Kaoru persuaded._

The shouji was abruptly pulled back in a hasty motion, revealing a disoriented Misao, shocking everyone. She looked pointedly at Kenshin before asking, "You stopped killing a long time ago, right?"

"Yes, … that's right. I'm…I'm not that person anymore…" Kenshin replied nervously.

"I know. I remembered… Tell me, … Himura, _who is Misao?" Misao firmly asked, ignoring the questioning looks she received from the masses._

"That's you," he answered tersely.

"So ka…thank you," Misao whispered, casting her face down, making it impossible for them to read her. Then, gripping her hands at her sides into tight balls, she slowly looked up at Kaoru and continued, "I'm sorry about this morning… Really, I am…"

Kaoru shook her head sympathetically, "Iie, I understand… And I'm sorry too."

Misao smiled back weakly at her, "Please, will you take me back to Tokyo with you? …"

"No, don't go, Natsumi-chan! Don't go!" Haru pleaded.

"Misao…" she uttered as if trying to reacquaint herself with that name. "_I am …Misao?" she asked Kaoru still, ignoring the elderly woman, "Makimachi Misao?" Kaoru could only nod in discomfort, worry clearly written all over her face. "Okashira … Oniwabanshuu…. I am the Okashira?" she swallowed hard, debating with herself on the answer. "That means I … have responsibilities left untended, … no?" her left eyebrow, raised questioningly._

Again, Kaoru silently nodded.

"Tokyo… friends… I don't live in Tokyo… But …Bring me to Tokyo with you before you send me back, ne? Please?" she asked uncertainly.

"We'll be glad to, itachi musume," the tall spiky brown-haired man spoke, grinning wide.

Before the elderly woman had a chance interrupt, Misao turned to face her and determinedly spoke, "Please don't stop me, Haru-san. I need to remember... Iie, Misao _wants to remember."_

--------------------------------

Three months later. In a dingy dojo in Tokyo.

"Anata, do you think she's ready? To go back to Kyoto, I mean," Kaoru asked her husband fearfully. He was quietly cradling his newborn son to sleep in the nook of his arm, while his eyes lingeringly observed the three figures in the garden.

Misao was busy explaining to Genzai sensei's two granddaughters, on the cycle of seasons. Despite the cold winds, she had insisted on wearing her old omittsu uniform when she first started remembering about it.

It was tough watching her regain her memories. 

On some nights, Kaoru would find her petit form hurdled in a corner, shivering, crying indecently, as she remembered a bitter past or a sad memory. And there were nights that got her rejuvenated the next day as remembered joy flooded in. Like the day she remembered making mochi and the Aioya special and how she enjoys beating the hell out of Yahiko, as well as her fetish for paper balls and cranes. Her mood would change from the genki weasel girl at one moment then, the depressed Okashira at the next. Memories does weird things to a person.

Kenshin gazed lovingly at his wife's pretty face and thinly smiled. "Aah. Shessa think she's ready, de gozaru," he answered truthfully, "But it's still up to her to decide."

--------------------------------

[Many thanks to all who commented. It's great to know that there are actually people reading this.]


	6. Words

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Standard Disclaimers Apply.

Part 6 - Words

--------------------

"Arigato minna-san! Thank you for everything," Misao cried, waving enthusiastically from a window of the steaming train. Her oceanic eyes were no longer frozen by confusion, but warm and gleaming bright with fervor. It took Okon her all to stop Misao from falling out.

"Oi! Weasel girl! Make sure you take care of yourself and try not to forget anything else this time okay?!" Sano teased, "'Cos the next time you try to kill someone innocent, I might not be there to stop ya!"

"Yeah!" Yahiko the brat, quipped in, not knowing what to say himself, being bad at goodbyes. He was going to miss her. Although the first few weeks with her were awkward, she had managed to acclimatize herself rather well with her surroundings. And it was even more fun when she started remembering and responding to his sardonic remarks. Not to mention, painful, sometimes.

"Come visit, okay? It would be nice having a greedy chicken head and a loudmouthed little brat constantly climbing on each other's necks around," Misao joked, unable to stop her eyes from leaking.

"Thank you so much for taking care of our Misao all this time and please, do visit us when you can! You are all always welcomed in the Aioya." Okon added.

"You're not thinking of inviting the chicken head as well, right? 'Cos he'd only finish up all the food and sake supply without contributing to a single thing!" Yahiko sarcastically commented, instigating a bokken to painfully land on his head. "Ittai!"

"Yahiko! I won't stand you badmouthing your elders like that!" Kaoru muttered defensively. She had definitely been a tat nicer to Sano these days, much to the annoyance of Yahiko. Deciding to ignore the fuming teen, she chose to turn her attention to Okon instead, "Okon, please take care of her!"

"I will. Don't worry," Okon smiled sympathetically.

"Misao, I want you to know that you will always be received in open arms here. If there's anything, anything at all which I can help, or even if I can't for all that matters, don't hesitate to find me, okay?" Kaoru squeezed Misao's hand reassuringly, her eyes no drier than Misao's.

"Aw shucks, women…" Yahiko shrugged, looking away, secretively wiping a lone moisture from his own eye.

Kenshin smirked knowingly, amused by the tough exterior his little friend was displaying. "Please send our best regards to everyone in Aioya, de gozaru. We'll visit when we can, perhaps when little Kenji's a little bigger!" Kenshin reflected, smiling, violet eyes glowing softly with fatherly warmth as he looked on at the tiny sleeping bundle cradled in his arms.

"I will, Himura! I will! Goodbye Minna-san! And thank you for everything!" Misao replied, starting her frenzied waving once again.

The horn of the steam-powered train was fortuitously sounded. It was time. At long last, after seven long months, Makimachi Misao was finally going home.

-------------------------

It is dawn. He could not sleep last night. Hell, he hasn't been sleeping well since the day she left them. Left him. His head throbbed painfully with millions of what ifs. 

What if she's changed? What if she's forgotten about them? About him? What if she's found a better life? Found a better person to be with? …And love? … What if she's stopped loving him? … What if … she hates him? …

-_Misao's coming home today-_

And he was scared. Shinomori Aoshi was scared. 

-_What a laugh. -_

He turned from his side, lying on his back now, arms folded neatly behind his head, pillowing, his eyes, slowly taking in every intricate detail adorning the room. This room, it's not his. It's hers. But in her long absence, he had unwittingly turned it into his own asylum, an escape from his poignant nightmares, manifesting it like a temple, like a shrine. His temple, his shrine.

Every little detail in this room emits her essence, warmth that is uniquely hers. The extra kunai kit that lay upon the desk, gets the same priority as the ruby bristled hairbrush and the two yellowing paper cranes that were once white. Reminding him dourly, that she was a child no more, that just like the paper cranes had yellowed with age, she too had quietly grown up into a competent and resilient leader. 

Her sharpened kunais, worn with practice, and the high pile of dog-eared fighting manuals, showed through her diehard determination to be treated as a serious ninja, an equal. The resplendent hairbrush, a book of quixotic poetries and a lonely silver kimono that stood hung on its stand in all its glory, evidences of a blossoming woman, beautiful, forgiving and loving. He was ashamed of himself to have missed them, those clues. Regret, remorse, compunction filled his empty void full. But no more, not this time. 

-_Misao is coming home today-_

And this time, he is going to be there.

--------------

As she entered the vicinity of the Aoiya, she held her breath. She remembered being here before and she felt totally at ease with her new surroundings. She smiled evenly, surprised herself. Carelessly, she skipped down the familiar path back to the building. Back to a place she once called home. 

As she reached the door, she stiffly froze. Okon nudged her companionably in her side, urging her to make the push and go in, encouraging. Misao inhaled deeply, shoulders raised exaggeratedly, then, uncertainly turned the knob. 

He was watching her intently, even before the moment she entered the house. He was going down the stairs when he had caught sense of her ki. He solidified on the spot still, wanting to catch her response when she first sees him, his own beating organ racing wildly beneath his chest. Then, there was the eye contact. And he held her bright sapphire orbs captive of his own aquamarine ones.

It was -_him-. The man that had listlessly haunted her dreams. Plaguing her thoughts day and night, night and day. The one who made her feel so much and yet hurt her terribly so. _

Misao stood rooted to the ground as he advanced nearer, slowly, deliberately, as sleek as a hungry lion on a prowl, his gaze never wavering. He stopped short of a foot between them, leaving her with just enough room to breathe. His eyes, once cold, now thawed considerably, probed expectantly into her depths, seeking. Of what, one can only guess at. It was hard to tell. Especially with him.

He waited patiently for her to react. But she only stared back blankly at him, unblinking, uncertain, fearful. She looked so vulnerable then, so fragile, that his heart ached with the desire to touch her, hold her close, comfort and assure her, and to protect her from all harm's way.Forever.

They were encapsulated in stillness, as though the world was made solely for the anticipation of this moment, their reunion, arising the feeling of surrealism. Time, it seemed, had stopped moving, together with their hearts.

He needed to know. He needed to know if she is staying. And he needed to know now. No longer able to take the awkward silence that had quietly established between them, he spoke, quiet voice husky with choked emotions, "Okaerinasai."

She blinked, once, twice, before his words finally got through and settled fully in her head. It seemed like an eternity of contemplation, when, dubiously, like a cat wanting fish but afraid if getting its paws wet, she chose to answer albeit feelings of insecurity. "Tadaima," she whispered softly but audible enough for him to hear her.

Relief washed him anew, like winter's snow, leaving him spring fresh, cleansed. He was maddeningly elated. Delirious with unearthly joy he never thought was possible to achieve. Finally, she has returned. Back home. Back to him.

Such was the power of words.

So relieved was he that he decided to give in to his heart's growing urges. He embraced her, held her close to his heart. He held her tight, impulsively, possessively, like there was no tomorrow, forgetting to breathe. Forgetting that she too needed to breathe.

Waves of emotions rioted within her, eventful memories clashed and banged mercilessly. What she already knew, she doubted, what she just remembered; memories that were rekindled, she could not believe. She let him hold her a while longer, basking in the feel of sunny warm sensation her now eclipsing heart was experiencing at this moment.

And then it occurred to her. Abruptly, she pulled away from his strong arms, her mind, in a painful daze.

_-Could it be? Masaka! No, it can't be!! -_

Feeling her knees weakening, her lips parted to form words, but failing, her eyes grew wide, too horrified to believe. Then, as she regained a semblance of control, she voiced her troubling conclusion. Shakily and fearfully, she burrowed deeper into his eyes and croaked, "J…j… Jiya?"

---------------

TBC??? Owari??

Brought to you by the evils of insomnia…

Thanks for reading.


	7. Goodbye

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Standard Disclaimers Apply.

Thank you all for reading. 

This is gonna be one hell of a long chapter as it is a coalition of possibly 2, erm no, 3 chapters. I wanted to be nice and decided to spare my readers from nasty cliffhangers ^^ watch out for them ^_____^ so brace yourself for a long ride ahead. Enjoy.

Part 7- Goodbye

--------------------------

Earlier the skies had been clear, but now there was a tangle of clouds overhead. The loss of sunlight swept over the land like an incoming wave over the seashore. Aoshi felt himself shiver. Alone, he sat cross-legged in his nippy room, ruminating over how accurately the ever-changing skies reflected his conflicting thoughts. 

Seasons come and go easily, changes take place regardless of mortal protests or reluctance. And time, time waits for no man. Still, the past can never be altered. But all that mattered now is this; - Misao has returned. Back home. Back to him. And her recovery was progressing rather well through the months. 

It had surprised him, initially, that among the first things she started to remember about were of her friends. His friends too. In fact, they were family - Hanyya, Shikijo, Hyottoko and Beshimi. Once, he had found her atop the high branches of a sturdy centurion cherry, her favorite childhood hiding place, weeping grievously over her remembered loss. True, he inwardly shared her enthusiasm to remember - he wanted her to remember yet he doesn't want her to remember; he does not want her to hurt all over again. And see her cry. It pained him to see her cry.

_Gods, no. Let her remember everything but that._

"A…Aoshi-san?" a meek voice probed form behind the opaque paper door, startling him. He straightened his back a little but otherwise made little effort to move.

"Come in, Misao, I've been expecting you," Aoshi calmly replied. She slowly pulled back the shoji timidly, revealing a tray of tea set in her hands. Gingerly, she stepped into his room, lowered her body so that her knees were touching the floor, then balancing the tray on her lap, closed the door shut again with her right hand. She rose with no hurry and moved nearer to him before setting the tray down.

Carefully, she turned two cups over and mechanically poured the tea she had prepared earlier into them. Shyly, she offered him a cup, which he readily accepted, their fingers brushing against each other briefly causing her cheeks to rouge slightly. She had cast her eyes down, saving herself from the task of having to look at him.

Aoshi, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed on her, watching her intently, gazing her face with the same fascination as a fortuneteller would gaze into a magical crystal ball, only he was sincere. 

When she had first stepped into his room, he had immediately felt lighter. Even the contending skies have once again cleared, he noted. It's as if her presence had chased away the gloominess of the day as well as in his heart.

Misao was feeling queasy. She could practically feel his eyes burning hot through her skin. It was weird, in the sense that she could not identify this feeling with anything else. But her feelings for this man, in front of her, were contradicting. She felt at peace being with him, yet at the same time, there's something about him that she found rather intimidating. Nonetheless, being with him, like this, simply felt …right.

Memories were still coming on to her, usually in the form of dreams. On some nights, she would wake up from terrifying nightmares, bathed in her own cold sweat, realizing that she had been screaming out sporadically, uselessly. And -he- would always be there, standing by her door with unfathomable eyes, watching her. She wondered if he was there out of sheer concern or perhaps he was just plain annoyed that he was rudely awoken from his restful slumber by her disturbing nightly cries. 

The latter then, she decided. For never once did he actually come in to comfort her. Or hold her or reassure her. He merely watched. And then he would disappear back into his room. 

Back into his world of oblivion.

But in the daytime, he was different. He would interrogate her about how much she had remembered. Reproduce articles from the past and request her to avidly search the shadowy recesses of her memory for some form of reaction. And patiently he would wait- for he was a very patient man.

Her memories must be failing her, she concluded. At one moment, she remembered him as someone whom she goes to, to be soothed; at another, he's the cold statue of a man, like the one drinking tea in front of her right now. Passive, reflective, frightfully sharp. And this person, she somewhat feared. 

Don't get her wrong, though - her memory is almost perfect now, save for clumsy patches of blanks for Aoshi that she simply could not bridge.

_Why is that? _

Perhaps, from what she could remember and from what she had been told, Aoshi had left her once. And his absence was long. 

_Too long. _

But when he did eventually returned, he had become a different man. 

_Too different. _

No longer is he the tall youth who indulged her by engaging his self in her childish games, whom, at this point, she could remember so clearly, like the back of her hand. Gone is that teenager who had easily joked with her and readily smiled at will. Gone is that quiet yet dominant Okashira whom she had infinitely admired so. And standing in replacement of all those, was this man - Unlike the fiery young man he was when he first lead the Oniwabanshuu, and unlike the cold, obscure person he became afterwards whom she loved still - This one is a fraud. 

But it's not like she had stopped having feelings for him, ever, … however intimidated she may feel in his repressed presence. That much she was certain.

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Aoshi lived only for this moment everyday - to be alone with her and no one else. Having her here with him was a privilege he can no longer deny himself of. He wondered clandestinely what she was feeling.

She's probably nervous, he guessed. For when she's not pouring or sipping tea, she is always fisting her hands into the material of her kimono. But she is not alone. To Aoshi, to be able to gaze at her wondrous face and to exist in so close a proximity to her was a marvel in itself. Though Misao is betrayed by slight fidgetings, his churning stomach was endlessly doing double summersaults and his agitated heart was pumping unhealthily at an accelerated pace. Just like her, he was equally anxious but his trusted, rigid mask remained in place, revealing nothing. Like always. 

And yes, she was actually wearing a kimono. A simple dark blue kimono with motif prints of golden and black bamboo leaves. And her lengthy shiny hair was pulled back into her custom braid again: He had only seen her hair down once - on the day she had returned. He preferred her that way, not that he was complaining… But nonetheless, what a sight for tired minds and sore eyes she made. Indeed all womanly and beautiful. He thought again how he had ignorantly missed those signs before. 

No, it wasn't ignorance but denial. Cruel. Vehement. Denial.

"Misao," his voice almost made her jump out of her skin.

"A…Aoshi-san?" That indicated the beginning of his cross-examination. 

"Aoshi," he reminded her gently.

"Aaa, … gomen de," she apologized to the reinstated, but nonetheless, diffident Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu. 

"You're tea is getting cold," he stated coolly.

"Hai, so desu," nervously, she reached for her cup, only to be intercepted by his hands.

"Here. Let me… let me pour you a new one," he softly offered, his eyes never once leaving the contours of her face.

"H… ha…hai, doumo arigato, …" she replied in kind, not able to stop herself from blushing. 

Delicately, he poured her a fresh cup of tea before proceeding to ask, "So tell me, Misao, is there anything new you want to share with me? Something you might want to discuss about?"

Misao almost snatched at the cup of scalding tea on the tray. Then she thoughtlessly went on to emptying its contents to buy her self some time before answering, numbing her tongue in the process. 

"Daijoubu… Please, take your time," he added, exhaling slowly as he did so, remembering that he had involuntarily been holding his breath.

"Actually, … there is something," Misao began, slowly replacing her cup back onto the black lacquered tray, her lips pulled back thinly into a mock smile.

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[It was supposed to end here... Can you tell?]

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She looked out at the window only to be greeted by the pinkish tinge of the early morning skies. Outside, the trees stood shabby, bare from their crowning glory. For their yellowing leaves had chosen to abandon them to unite with the ground- dancing ever so gracefully, in circles, as the recurring cold gale blew, while the trunks that had not long ago bore them, stood forgotten, forlorn. 

Her fisted hands sought deeper into the sleeves of her kimono for warmth, mistaking its warmness for security when it could only provide paltry sensations of it. She simply does not know where to begin. Neither is she too sure if she wanted to talk about it. Yet.

"Yes?" Aoshi gently prompted, when she remained extensively silent. He was about to start a new series of questions, to aid her, when she suddenly spoke.

"Kireii na," Misao whispered.

"Excuse me?" A puzzled Aoshi quizzed, hounding her lazy gaze suspiciously, only to catch it lingering out of the window, then back at her.

"The sky. The trees. The leaves. The wind. Everything," she dreamily drawled, not diverting her scrutiny from the window still. "Isn't it beautiful how the murky, dark night always gives way to day? … And it could be any day. Bright and sunny, or cool and cloudy, gloomily stormy, maybe perhaps … bitter cold and …wintry…" her voice dejectedly dropped an octave, as she remembered the freezing night she spent hiding in the closet in vain, after learning from Jiya they had left her behind- because she had foolishly believed he would find her, just as he had promised. But he didn't. And that never cease to hurt her.

"…" For the first time that morning, Aoshi willed himself to look away, finding himself unable to respond appropriately to her musing. 

"My …friends…" she choked on the word, " once left me on a cold wintry night… and they never came back for me… Pity. It was snowing softly- the pure white snow blanketing all earthly flaws from view so … so beautifully."

"Aaah. Kireii na. …It will snow again soon." Aoshi accepted, finally finding his voice.

"Hontou ni," Misao murmured languidly, thinking aloud to no one in particular."What irony. …Yuki no kirai." Casting her eyes down regretfully, she additionally breathed, "Ame ga no kirai."

-_Rain, summer rain, fall down hard on me. Please have mercy. Wash away all my grief and sorrow. Wash all this hurt and pain away.Make me forget. Make me forget__…__ make me forget everything__…__ -_

Almost hurriedly, she snapped out of her teetering reverie, not wanting to be swept away by the tides of depression once again. Understanding finally dawned in on her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with that feeling as the final forgotten piece of the most fuzzed about puzzle resurfaced, and surreptitiously fell into place. 

By now, of course, she was already a master of concealing her unstable and raging emotions in place, having had many a vicious memory assaults previously. She grabbed at the tray into her hands and quickly hoisted herself up in a single hasty motion. "Sumanu. I must get going. They might need my help. Ja."

"I'll go with you." Without turning around, Misao reluctantly nodded her head to comply, knowing full well that it was pointless to argue with Aoshi. His answer no longer came to be a surprise to her; it had, after all, become a routine for the both of them- that is, him following her around as she makes her way through the Aioya each day.

She found this frustrating and draining, at times, always having to be conscious of his presence and to constantly be the subject of study of his watchful eyes. And at moments such as this one, when she felt the great need to be alone, she found his company utterly unnerving, to the extent of suffocating. 

She knew he had already picked up on her unsettling aura; she could have sworn she had caught a flash of concern fleeting momentarily in his hard eyes. But being a gentleman he was, he would not push her in a corner and force it out of her. He would wait until she was ready to voluntarily venture it forth. He was, after all, a very patient man.

Ever grateful of that fact, she silently thanked the gods. For the time being, she would make do by putting up with his disconcerting insistences. Confrontation of the truth, the newly realized truth that promises a great deal of undeniable pain ahead, will have to wait. She will eventually deal with it when she is ready. Now, however, she is not. Now is not the time.

But unknown to her was the guarded fact that he was actually terrified of being bereaved of her again.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Misao longingly studied the profile of the tall handsome man leaning by the corridor. 

-_Was he really the man who had once told her to never show her face to him again? Was he the Okashira whose lust for power was so severe that he had willingly turned his back on his clan__'__s honor? Was he the very lad who had lovingly tucked her in bed promising her that they will never be apart and then had cruelly left her on a cold lonely night? Was he the same person who had hugged her so fiercely then when he had welcomed her home? Yet really the one who had wanted her to leave him alone? The man who spent the better part of his returned days meditating in the cheerless temple? The very one who believes that he is too tainted to ever deserve a shot at happiness and love? A man who is forever tied to her only because of an oath and not because he truly __… -"You don't have to do this, you know."_

"Do what, Misao?" he implored evenly, lifting his strong poised shoulders off the cold wall with fluid-like grace, before sauntering his way towards Misao.

"All this," Misao shrugged, turning away from him to pull back her bedroom shouji, "You don't have to be so nice to me. You don't owe me anything. …Are you …doing all this because you …feel sorry for me? "

"… Misao … I …" Aoshi fumbled trying to find something that made sense to say. He was totally unprepared for that as the norm would have her saying nothing to him save the expected polite bidding of goodnight, "…you're my responsibility, Misao," he uttered defeatedly.

"Is that so? Is that all to it? If that's all your reason, then DON'T!!" Misao fired, suddenly sounding enraged as she abruptly turned to squarely face him again, "… No, not like this. You shouldn't be obligating yourself to do anything you don't want to. Nobody should," she rectified, breezing into a soft whisper as swiftly as the sudden outburst had came.

"…" Aoshi flinched away from her accusing eyes and silently regarded her words.

"Who are you?" Another unexpected query that made him turn.

"What?" Aoshi was taken aback. " You know who I am, Misao."

"Who are you?" She asked again, firmly this time, choosing to ignore that previous reply, as she prodded deeper into his emotionless dark orbs.

"I'm… Aoshi," he hesitated.

"No, you're not. …You're not him." Miserably, she tore herself away, seeking asylum, instead, in her cold dark chamber, before the fresh tears that were mounting, could make their presence known to the accompanying person. 

"But I am…" he protested weakly as his eyes searchingly bore into her back.

"You're someone else," she finished weakly, in contrary, as she forcefully pulled the shouji shut, separating herself from him. "Oyasumi." She leaned against the door clutching her disturbed chest vainly. Then she opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of her room, wishing desperately that she could merge into its shadows, paying no heed of the tears that rapidly flowed. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She did not bring him tea the next day nor the day after next. Hell, all she did was avoid him hereafter. In fact, she tactically placed herself as far away from him as she could, taking extremely careful measures to limit their contacts to a brief occasional greeting or a silent nod. The most intimate form of response he could wrench from her was a tight-lipped smile. Aoshi was confused. He hated being confused. And he loathed the idea of not having Misao talk to him and smile for him.

_Tonight. Tonight he would talk to her. _

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

[Another end here too...^^]

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Misao folded the last corner of the paper and pinched the pointy end into place. She held it closer to her face and began to observe her handiwork. Perfect. 

She dumped her recent work to join the identical others, each one of congruent color and size. 'And to think that it used to be so hard to learn to make them,' she sighed, tickled by the fond recollections of Aoshi having to repeat to her the same steps recurrently on many different occasions when she was younger. He had always been patient, unlike her. 

'Even now,' she reflected thoughtfully to herself. She eyed the pile pensively, seeing that her careless toss had caused the paper cranes to somewhat scatter; a group of four that had oddly formed a small imperfect circle and not very far away, a couple huddled together, though facing away from each other. 'That's Hannya, Shikijo, Beshimi and Hyottoko. And that's Aoshi and …' she put her musing to an abrupt halt. 'No. Stop.' How she wished things could have stayed the same. Well, not exactly. But at least, like back then when everyone was happier and everything was better off…

_-Just like old times - _

"IYYAAA!!! DAME YO! Don't even go there!" she reprimanded herself, burying both her hands in her hair, grasping her head painfully at that forbidden thought, as though doing so could exorcise her scruples away.

_-What__'__s left to be afraid of, Misao? You know he -_

'still sees me as a… child. An obligation whom he has to protect. To him, I mean nothing more than that. Nothing more… All these time, I'm just that,' she bitterly countered.

_-Do you honestly believe in that, Misao? Do you? Do you? -_

She shut her eyes tight, shaking her head fervently, trying to ignore that assiduous voice.

_-Misao? - It taunted her still. _

"… Ee," she softly uttered, completely beaten. With her answer, the goading miraculously stopped, giving her a brief reprieve from self-scorn for the first time in months. She let her cold, tired hands fall down limply on her lap. Her eyes widened considerably, albeit vacantly, as she solemnly regarded the pristine white snow falling just outside her window. It had already begun to snow. Even if she wished hard for it to stop right now, it never will.

The sounds of heavy footsteps haunted the hallways then grew progressively louder before making a complete stop outside her room. She pried her tearing eyes away from the window, turning sluggishly to stare blankly at the door. "Jiya?" she called out, angry at herself for not being able to surely identify her visitor and even more so for the betraying voice that had escaped her lips.

No answer. Instead, the paper screen was forcefully yanked open, revealing a seemingly weather beaten man. 

His hair, once meticulously combed sleekly to the back, now ran messily in tangles- evidently, he had been pulling on them while he thought, before he had decided to come barging in. Dark pools of shadows uncharacteristically painted below his droopy eyes, clearly indicating that sleep had been scant and scarce. Impressions of wrinkles grazing his pallid skin around his eye, forehead and mouth areas, seemed visibly deeper than usual. He is definitely not looking his best today. Nature had been unkind. He looked haggard and old. Very old.

He marched unceremoniously towards her, needing to hear it, not from Omasu nor Okon nor from anyone else, but from her own mouth.

"Why are you doing this to me, Misao? Why? No, why are you doing this to all of us? To you? Especially you," he demanded, traces of his usual dreary humor long gone. She returned her head to a more natural position, wincing at the thought of her answer as well as the thought he had implied.

"Answer me, Misao!" he imposed.

"Once, …" she softly began, "you said I was young. You said I was reckless. You also said I was naïve. Warm but naïve, reckless but enthusiastic, you described me. …But why is it do I feel so old? So cold?" she looked at him regretfully with dark grave eyes as he planted himself before her. "And all this time, everyone kept telling me that everything will be all right if I smile, if I just believe, that laughter can chase away all gloom, that the sun still shines bright and strong after the nastiest of storms. And they kept telling me that I'll always be happy, for I'm strong. I'm strong they said…" she chuckled bitterly, "…but I'm not. I'm not."

Her eyes struggled shut, her shoulders involuntarily shaking, as she went on, "No matter how hard I believe, I can never get what I truly wish for. …Even when I smile, my friends will still be dead. …I laugh but I still feel very sad. …And the sun, …it understands not and feels neither hot nor cold, neither happy nor sad, neither joy nor pain. … But _I do._"

"Misao, …we understand your pains …we all feel it too, so please, … don't do this, Misao," he let out, instinctively bringing his right hand to cup his similar sided cheek.

"I'm aware of that and I'm sorry. I am VERY sorry…" She took in a sharp breath, trying to compose herself.

"The sun is like hope, Misao. Believe in it. It will always illuminate day. With it, lives thrive," he tried to reason.

"But too much or lack of it, life dies," she bluntly cut in. "You see, it's a double-edged sword in disguise; capable of destruction, hurt and pain. There is no joy in hoping… only searing pain when crushed…"

"Hope alone, without effort, isn't enough, Misao. Effort without passion is insuffice. Hope paves the way to a vision, effort builds up that vision and passion makes it whole, completing it," he explained.

"What then of nature and all things irrepressible? You can never change it, even if you tried, even if you hope with the greatest fervor … even if you believe…" she heaved heavy-heartedly.

He was quiet for a while, choosing his words carefully. Misao is no longer a child now, she is a beautiful, ardent and a highly intelligent young lady.And he is no fool to think that she could easily be won over by simple false assurances. 

"Aaah. That is true…" he agreed, "The snow will fall down still, Misao, but it will cease after winter is over… the rain will not pour down endlessly and the leaves that fall will eventually get replaced. Nature is not that cruel, Misao. It gives us all time to breathe, a chance to start all over …"

"No. The snow will always come again; the next cycle of season, the next year- even colder, even harder. And the rain- when torrent, floods Japan, and in its absence, cast us the blaspheming dry spell. …Leaves grow back but will they ever be the same? 'Cos everyone grows old and will one day fade away- everyone you love, whom you can never replace. …And worst of all, it gives us more than ample time to remember, to have them permanently etched into our memories, right onto the part that visits us often, to regret … This life… So much misery, so much pain. …Will the pain ever go away?" she whispered, hands wound defensively around her petite form, as though by doing so would protect her from all further harm.

He is no stranger to pain. The multiple scars he had gained, testified to the physical pain he had endured in previous battles. Tablets that decorated the altar, remains a grim reminder of treasured fellow comrades, lost amidst valiant efforts. But he had always been one to be so easily pacified, who often detached his self from too close an emotional contact, from being involved, with the exception of her. For she was like a daughter he could not ignore.

"No, …I believe there is no sure remedy for pain, Misao," he reluctantly answered, "But give it some time, it might not all go away, but perhaps will reduce in time. Be patient for patience is, after all, a virtue."

"Then SCREW VIRTUE! Because you will never know how much … the pain, I mean. … you will never know how _much it __hurts me,_" she confided calmly, in between clenched teeth. That came out better than she'd thought it would, for when she had said that, she was virtually yelling inside.

"Misao…" He had lost. She was right. Nothing mars the soul as bad as having too strong an emotion that one cannot ever overcome. The pains of a battle, as he understood, may be soothed with the thought of a glorious victory adherent to a brighter future for all ahead. The healed scars that grazed his skin, no longer hurt him; in fact, they had become heroic emblems of pride, instruments of impressing whey-faced geishas and under men and such. 

Apparently, on the surface, he might have gone past the unlivable threshold, but try as he might, he could never forget the grief of losing his poor family, his dear friends, and a particular someone whom he had especially loved … still loves. Perhaps that was the reason he remained unwed. Even after all these years. In memory of his own unconfessed love that gnaws at his conscience still…

She let her eyes stay shut a while longer, before slowly opening them, which was just as well - the steady flow of tears blurred her vision, making it easier for her to continue, even though her breathing grew labored, "I gave my heart so freely, completely, unconditionally but all I got in turn was pain. …And every time I see him, it hurts me more. Hurts me by ten folds and ten folds and ten folds… It hurts me a hell lot more. And it never stops," she shook her head, "It never stops. Even during that entire bout, I could feel it. Remember it so BAD. Like a ghost I can't shake, it haunts me still. And now, …it only intensifies. At every sight, every memory, every talk, every thought, every second, every day. I can only stand so much!"

He immediately rushed to her side, crushing her tiny form in a strong, apologetic embrace. He let his little angel cry into his shoulder, running his hand along her long silken hair, rubbing her trembling back in a pathetic attempt to soothe the pain he knew he could not. No actions of his, no words he could possibly string and say could relief her from the hold of agony. Not even the smallest bit. 

So he kept silent as he let her cry. 

"I am SORRY that I just have to love him so much! I am SO SORRY that everyone gets hurt as well! But I can't help it!! It just … just happened!!! … I DON'T WANT this pain!! I don't! … Make it go away! Make it stop! ONEGAI!! …Forgive me, Jiya! … Forgive me please," she whimpered beneath his hold, "… I can only do so much," she whispered, "…If… leaving means being selfish, then let me… let me be selfish. …Just this once, let me. Please? …I hate myself being weak! I want… I want it to stop, Jiya! …I need to get away …far away… from this pain, …from him," she sniffed, "…If leaving means forgetting…if leaving means healing… then let me leave, please, let me leave," she pleaded, her voice barely audible.

"Then go," he reluctantly agreed, although his heart bled at his decision, "Leave this place and be happy, Misao."

"Arigato. Hontou ni. Domo arigato," in between sobs, she thanked him.

"Ssssshhh. Sssshhhh. I'm here. Whenever you need me, I'll always be here for you, my angel, Misao."

He stayed with her as she wept, till her tears ran dry, till the sniffings ceased. He did not want her to go but he could not stand seeing her so miserable like this. Another love lost to fate. And he was powerless to stop it from happening, yet again.

_Promise me you__'__ll be happy._

_-----------------------_

Owarimashoka?

'Yuki no kirai': I hate snow

'Ame ga no kirai': I hate rain

'Kireii na': Pretty, isn't it

i think the rest are pretty comprehensible so i won't bother explaining them.


	8. Cold

A product of insomnia

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Many great thanks to all who'd reviewed… Means a lot…
    
    Visions Part 8 – Cold 

---------------------------------

After that fateful incident, Misao had not spoken to him again. It was all too painfully obvious that she was avoiding him. And it wasn't because he didn't try, for he did.

Whenever he attempted to stalk her, she would excuse herself by saying that she was feeling unwell and would then proceed to contain herself in her solitary quarter the entire day. And whenever she learnt that he had turned up to join them for lunch or dinner, she would rather starve herself than be there.

It had been days since he had last heard her voice, weeks since he had last seen her truly smile and heard her laugh but already it felt like a grueling forever. Too harsh, too cruel.

Well, Aoshi is a patient man. _But even patience can run thin._

No matter. Tonight, they would talk. Yes, they will talk. He will see to it that no amount of protesting and excuses would get her out of this one, this time.

Deciding against knocking to be let in, he pulled the paper screen in a single deft motion, startling the person confined within the chamber.

"Misao," he strode purposefully to the petite young female who had been gazing out the window. "We need to talk."

She turned around hurriedly at the mention of her name, or rather, upon hearing him call her name. Her eyes were comically wide, undecided as to whether she was more angry than surprised.

"W… What are you doing here?! I… I could've been changing or…"

"But you're not," he abruptly cut in. He stopped exactly a foot away before her, so that her eyes were now leveled with his cloth-clad torso. "Or you could've been out, or ill, or sleeping or entertaining a guest, for all that matter," he added, almost as an afterthought. Almost. "But you're not."

She shivered involuntarily at the coolness his voice held.

"No more excuses, Misao. Talk. Now."

"Fine," she attempted a retort, rebelliously stamping her foot into the floor. " Then talk. I haven't much time left anyway," she said as she looked up to meet his artic gaze, which she knew would be hidden behind his inky bangs.

_As long as they remained concealed, as long as she didn't see them, she was safe._

But the cruel wind had decided to blow through the window at precisely that moment, and she was unfortunate enough to find herself drowning into his depthless blue.

It was a bad move – her looking up at him. Though she had gone through this very scene repetitiously over a hundred times in her head already, still all that practice never did prepare her enough for the real thing.

"And why is that, Misao?" he coolly questioned, breaking her out of her frozen stupor.

"Because…" she swallowed rather audibly, much to her disdain, "I'd be leaving," she replied shakily, all too conscious of how close he was standing to her.

"You're leaving?" he parroted easily, making that query sound more like a statement of his own.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, prying her stubborn eyes away from his.

"When?" he quizzed her again.

"Soon," she replied softly, staring blankly at his chest, desperately wanting him to leave before she loses anymore semblance of control.

"Where would you go, Misao?" he implored evenly, bowing his head down a little lower so that he could discretely study her features a little better.

"Away… Somewhere far," was her whispered answer, but her mind went on a litany of its own, '_Far from here, far from this pain, far from you… Especially you.'_

She had decided to leave early the next morning, without having to go through weepy farewells and particularly, without her having to go through another confrontation with him again.

The last time they did so was before she had left for the Himuras – before the incidence of her provisional memory loss.

That night, he had subtly rebuked her love, telling her that the whole idea of love was foolish. That it was merely created by hopeless drunken poets, with nothing better to do but with too much time to spare.

He had revealed to her that his concern for her was purely for her life, her safety; a sheer concern on his part - of him honoring a vow, which he had taken many years back… And he had told her that even if he tried, he could never love her as a woman.

…_Never_. …His words, not hers.

It was painful, those words. Something she would rather forget than having to remember at all once again. She had decided to hurt no more, even if it meant at the expense of hurting someone else.

But her traitorous resolve had deserted her the moment Aoshi first stepped into her room. And looking up to meet his undecipherable eyes had been a mistake on her part, for it set her heart a fluttering and sent her world a spinning.

And the all too familiar pain was back, playing as a permanent resident in her heart- threatening to tear her apart.

She shouldn't have let him in. Shouldn't have let him talked. Shouldn't have listened to a single word he uttered and, most certainly, shouldn't let her self be manipulated by him once more.

Instead, she should have stopped him. Should have been incessantly angry with him and his mindless querys. She should have screamed and yelled at him for making her feel so miserable all the time. Should have cursed and hated him for making her fall victim to a damned love when he, on the other hand felt not a single thing.

_It was just not fair!_

But she couldn't. She could not bring herself to hurt him. Well, she could hurt Okina, herself, and just about everyone else.

…But not him… She could never do that.

Confused, she felt the greatest urge to flee from him and his curious questionings, right then and there. In fact, she would have gladly bolted straight for the exit if not for the weak sensation in her knees.

"Why, Misao?" he calmly asked.

"I…You won't understand," she said, looking away. _' Not now, Misao, don't cry,' she reprimanded herself._

"Try me," he challenged her, though his voice remained relatively impassive still.

"I don't believe I owe you an explanation, Okashira," she snapped back defiantly, trying to steel herself, and at the same time, glad that her irrational anger had taken over, masking all uncertainties and nervousness inside.

They remained unmoving in the awkward silence for the next few moments, staring uselessly at their feet for inspiration that never came.

Then suddenly, Aoshi began, the sudden boom of his apathetic voice causing her to jump a little, "You've been avoiding me, Misao."

"You said talk. Not you giving me all the questions and I having to answer every one of them," she reasoned, eluding form answering.

"That was not a question, Misao," he composedly replied before the both of them lapsed into a deafening silence once more.

Slowly, he took a measured step back, letting his eyes drink in the sight of her being illuminated by the pale streak of moonlight, filtering through the wooden gaps that made the window frame. Clad in her cotton white sleeping attire, with a gray woolen blanket draping over her shoulders, beneath her long loosened hair, she was a picture to behold - though she wasn't the least bit aware of it.

He soundlessly inhaled a deep breath, his body was turned and he was heading for the door as he nonchalantly told her, "Fine… Then I'm coming with you."

"NO!" Aoshi immediately froze. He was in his third mid-stride when he heard her scream. She shrank away fearfully, horrified with his suggestion. "You're… You're not coming! …You can't come!" she wailed wildly.

"And why not?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow in silent amusement over her enthusiastic response, as he gracefully twirled around to face her once more.

"Because I don't want you to!" she retreated further still, half hoping he would stop pursuing the matter and leave her altogether; whilst the other half fervently wishing for the presence of an inopportune obstacle, to impede her withdrawal, so that he would catch her in his arms should she fall.

"You can't stop me," he retorted deadpanned, as he closed the distance between them once more. In fact, this time, he stood closer than before.

"B…but I can try," she blurted gauchely, feeling the warm flush already staining her cheeks, as incoherent thoughts flitted clumsily in precedence of seeking rationality.

"Damn it, Shinomori! Stop it! Kodomokara kujanai!!" she screeched rather childishly, much to his mirth. But his joy was short-lived. "As from now, Shinomori Aoshi," she awkwardly punched into his broad shoulders in a feeble attempt to push him away, distancing, "… you have nothing to do with me anymore. I am no longer your concern. You are NOTHING to me… You are free from your oath."

Aoshi stared at her mutely in disbelief, infuriated and disappointed, all balled together at the same time. _'She can't possibly mean what she said, can't she?' he thought, feeling dazed all of a sudden._

Hurt, but not showing signs of it, he silently stepped away from the individual.

"No, I meant it. Every word," she affirmed, confirming his suspicion that he had unwittingly spoken his words aloud.

Summoning all the remaining strength she could muster, she slowly edged her way to the door with more confidence than she actually felt, then sleekly pulled it back, showing her visitor the way out.

"Misao, matte yo…" he called out but hesitated, his aquamarine eyes desperately seeking her crystal blue orbs. He had never been good with words before. Not then, not now.

But she had cast her head down in a little bow and stoically told him in a quiet voice, "Mou ii… You have done enough already." He winced at her words. "Leave, please… We're done talking."

If only she had looked up to meet his eyes, she would have known the truth - How sorry he felt, how wrong he was and how much she meant to him. But she did not.
    
    ----------------

It is cold today. The hills are deathly pale, the clouds dark. It was midnight. The sky was clear, dry and brilliant with stars. The land was frozen hard as iron, its streams gripped by ice. The waning moon cast a light so sullen that the land seemed to glow with a pale cold shimmer.

No snow had fallen that day, nor had there been any thaw – so all the world was white except for where the trees had been. The wind had blown them free of snow and they now stood black and intricate against the winter bleak land.

In the midst of it all, the peaceful world slept on, undisturbed – save for the soft crunching of fallen snow upon the careful treading of light, nimble feet.

Though clad in layers of warm earth-hued clothes and wrapped in a woolen navy cloak to boot, the dainty form couldn't help but shiver whenever the tinniest gale breezed by.

Her mind was in a mess. – Disoriented by the previous night's ordeal; The only clear thought she had left was to leave this place as far away as possible, as soon as she ever could. She did not know what to think; did not want to think anymore. And she no longer paid any heed to her thoughts because the more she thought, the more patronized she felt, the more confused she became.

Oddly, the soft moaning of the distant winds, which she could sometimes hear, produced a sound that she somehow found… soothing. And as they blew nearer, the snow would begin to rise and stir, dancing excitedly in fine sprays, swirling around and about her before reluctantly hitting the ground.

It had surprised her when she realized that she had stopped walking. She wasn't entirely certain when it took place. But that's what had happened. Already she had procrastinated for far too long – not having the courage to leave days ago as she had originally intended.

And tonight was too good a chance to let go to waste. The entire Oniwabanshuu household was out in town  - seeing to business, the occasional supplement to the Aoiya, where their expert services were needed; which could be as straightforward as escorting visiting high ranking officials during their stay or as needless as gracing the opening of the latest winery or such with their presence. 

The Oniwabanshuu had always been rather popular amongst the locals. And invitations to occasions such as the latter weren't all bad. In fact, they saw little, if any, reasons to decline such generous invitations.

Our fugitive of the night shuddered as she resumed walking, gathering her long heavy coat closer to her form, dreading the fact that she would have to make this trip in the biting cold. All alone.

**_Or was she?_**

"Misao." A lean figure that had been lurking in the dark addressed her, stopping her dead in her tracks. 

She didn't have to look up to know who it was. She didn't want to – mustn't do.

She salvely closed her eyes and audibly heaved out a tired breath. An act. It is all an act. Truth is, she could practically hear the erratic thumping of her heart in her ears, and wondered worriedly if he could hear them as well.

**_Control_****, she told herself**.

Even though  he stood a respectable seven paces away from her, she dared not open her eyes for fear that all pretenses would crumble.

She could exactly imagine the soft flapping of his trenchcoat in the mild wind for she had memorized its dancing grace, whilst he stared at her endlessly, pokerfaced.

The both of them held their ground; neither moving, neither yielding. What passed by that was but a few minutes, seemed like a torturous eternity.

The solemn hoot of a straying snow owl, broke their spell of silence.

Her eyes flew open and she looked ahead.

"You're upset," he told her as he quietly stepped out of the shadows.

"Really?" she asked just as insipidly.

He didn't answer her. He could not. Not when it was him that was the source of it. 

"That's no longer your concern," she reminded him dourly.

"Then what is, Misao?" he probed with practiced aloofness. He saw her flinched. For a nanosecond, her eyes registered hurt. He hadn't intended to say it that way.

"Not me," she retaliated, as her feet sought to edge.

The night sky above them blazed with diamond hard stars. The moon was below the horizon, only a faint pallor in the west betraying its presence.

"Don't make me tell you again." She passed him by without so much as stopping or risking a glance. "Don't ever show your face to me again, Aoshi-sama… Sayonara." 

And the oblivious world slept on… 

------------

Thank you for reading.

Some Japanese Terms used:

'Mou ii…' -'That's enough…'

'…matte yo…' – '…wait..'

'Kodomokara kujanai!!' – 'Because I'm not a kid anymore!'


	9. Running Away

It has had been a week since she got here. 

A full week and counting… and never once did the thought of him left her. 

Her efforts to banish him from her system were not only severely exhausting, they were entirely useless, as well. 

Everything she saw, anything she did, no matter how insignificant and unrelated they maybe, seemed to remind her of him. 

The day, the night, the food that she ate. The fire that she burnt to keep her self warm. The tea that she drank, the blades of her kunai, the tatami mats that she sat on and thread upon. 

The color of her eyes, the solid frozen river… even the straying laughter of a stranger... 

A smile - any smile… every smile that she saw and did not see… 

Hell, everything did… 

In daytime, the harsh blueness of the sky constantly reminded her of his ineffable eyes: hard, blue and clear. – It was a clarity she knew too well that hid anything and everything about the man.

And the silence of the night grimly reminded her of his callous distance. – A distance that kept him peerless and unreachable at all times. Just like a blazing star that burns bright, light years away… so unattainable… so determined to stay alone.

And the coldness of the snow reminded her of his heart – vast, void and frigid…

He was everything and everywhere she turned to. Yet always, he was beyond her figuring out. Always.

She touched her right index and mid finger behind her ear and felt her throbbing pulse.

How is it possible that the mere thought of him could effortlessly send her heart racing?

And the more she desired to forget him, the harder she tried to do so, the greater she failed. 

All she could think about was him, even in her best efforts not to. And it was infuriatingly driving her insane!

That night… that night when she finally told him goodbye… wasn't it all supposed to have ended? This obsession with him, the gnawing guilt, the abject pain…

Was she not supposed to start anew? So that she could finally feel happy? 

Happy? Yes… she supposed she could. 

Somehow… someway… 

It would be much like having it rain with the absence of water… Well sure, she could that…

And being here - away from home, away from him - added something else, a sense of … ? She stopped short of naming the sentiment attached to it as she sensed a watching presence.

**_A visitor_**, she thought.

Him? 

If her heart was racing earlier, it had gone totally off charts now. In fact, it raced so hard that she wouldn't at all be surprised if it suddenly chose to leap out of her mouth at that exact moment.

_This is all wrong … he isn't supposed to be here._

He's supposed to be mopping in the cheerless temple, busily praying and meditating or… whatever it is that he does - futilely seeking redemption in hopes of atonement for his past sins.

Heh, he's affirmatively turning to stone, if anyone asked her.

"I know you are there, Aoshi-sama," she spoke first. She did not even bother to turn around to face him to indicate that she acknowledged his presence. "I thought I had told you…" her words died in her throat when she sensed him approaching.

"Told me what, Misao?" he questioned aloofly, "Whatever it was, I didn't listen."

It wasn't his answer that made her flushed but his physical nearness to her. She could tell that he was close for she could feel the intangible heat that his body emanated on her back. And the scent of him that wafted into her nostrils, almost made her knees weak. 

And he was still inching nearer as he pointedly spoke - voice, callous and distant, "Even a cat may look at a king. And you…" he paused for emphasis, "are no king."

If his first words earlier had made her speechless, that latter had her almost floored.

Well, what was she expecting from him? An apology?!? 

"You've remembered everything now, haven't you?" he spoke again. "You'd even used my own words against me." 

She kept silent, wrecking her brain as her mind whirled unsteadily, trying to think of something clever to say.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," he answered for her when he received none.

Breathe… 1… 2… 

"Don't ask questions to answers you already know!" she finally retorted, furiously crushing the ball of her left foot into the ground. "And you're not supposed to be here, neither are you supposed to show…"

"You are not even looking at me, Misao," he bluntly cut in. "And I'm standing behind you," he impassively went on, "Clearly, I did not show you my face." 

**_If jaws could drop without first being broken, hers would have done so._**

"Yet …if you were to so much as to turn around, … you will see me," he offhandedly continued, just in time as she spun around, seething hotly. 

"But it wouldn't be my fault, now," he finished unconcernedly, savoring the look of utter disbelief that she wore on her face, "… would it?" 

Definitely would have done so… 

If Aoshi was like any ordinary man, he might be smirking right then. 

But the only sign that gave away his amusement was his slightly raised brow, like the way one would condescendingly display to mock a scowling foe. It wasn't really noticeable and under the most ignorant and emotional, would easily pass undetected.

Fuming, she pointed accusingly at him, "You… you said u weren't listening!" she shrilled incredulously.

He made a tiny movement with his shoulders. Very tiny. Perhaps, it could pass as a shrug. An Aoshi shrug.

"No, I said I didn't listen …" he looked at her finger disinterestedly before looking straight into her eyes. "Why should I?"" he replied her with a question, unyielding cool. "And besides, Misao, exchange is no robbery."

She was about to ask him what he meant by that when it finally dawned on her that he himself had once told her to never show her face to him again. But his words had, more or less, totally gone unheeded.

A shocked gasp escaped her lips. She prayed he did not hear it but she knew better. 

**_'Think of something! Think of something!' her mind panicked._**

"So, what now, Aoshi?" she folded her arms on her chest and glared at him evocatively. The lack of formality did not escape him.

"Are you going to drag me back to the Aoiya with you? And then what?" she widened her eyes, if it were anymore possible and flailed her arms exaggeratedly. 

"Bring me tea every morning and noon? Wait for me by the temple road and pretend to join me for a walk every evening?" she accentuated on the word every. " Are you going to pester me to no end? Is that what you are going to do? Want to do?" she spat exasperatedly.

If she weren't so upset, she would have realized how comical the entire scene was.

"Which question do you want me to answer first?" he detachedly interjected.

Was that a joke? Was she supposed to laugh? 

She spent a long hard time glaring at him, searching his teal pools for some form of truth that might perhaps, miraculously be there. But she found none, being unable to decipher the codes of vacance he held in his eyes. 

Somberly she shook her head negatively and answered him the best she could.

"I only want the truth. Well, at least that's what I thought. But since I already knew it, don't bother answering. Just go already." 

The silence that followed was numbing. A part of her wanted him to deny her accusations, to utter anything even, just as long as he breaks the silence; the other feared should he do so. Feared that she would be let on and hurt all over again.

**And then the worst of her fears came true. **

"Misao, wait… Before you turn your back on me forever, at least… at least listen to what I have to say…"

**He gave her hope…**

"What I've told you…everything… they were" 

And he took it back… 

"I wasn't lying…" 

She felt her heart splintered into uncountable shards.

"They were only half truths…" 

And then troddened on and squelched upon.

Suddenly, he took her face in his hands, and forcing her to him, he kissed her. 

It was brief, yet absolutely devastating. She reeled and turned her back on him, panting and disoriented. She let her left hand fall limply by her side, her right grazing her mouth.

And then she ran.

And ran…

And she ran…

-------------------------

Thank you for reading.


End file.
